The Bear and the Dragon
by ProperDaveXD001
Summary: Driven both by curiosity and political necessity, Merida and her father have accepted chief Hiccup's invitation to the island of Berk. For his part, Hiccup is doing his best to rise to this new challenge as chief, unaware that others have a vested interest in Berk and Dunbroch's negotiations...
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This continues the saga (an appropriate term given the subject matter) begun in 'In Dreams and Memory'. Its part of something larger that I'm trying to put together as a means of keeping me sane. Basically, I've joined Berk on to the Disney-verse in a way that makes sense to me; I'm contemplating a related fic that tries to make my vision of how this works, but that might be a while in coming.

It should go without saying that I've borrowed some of Disney and Dreamworks best work to do this, and I don't own these fandoms. What may not be so obvious is that the majority of this chapter was written prior to the release of season 6 Race to the Edge. Just to pre-empt potential criticism, I am aware of the changes found therein and I mean to do something with them in later chapters. For now, please enjoy.

* * *

 **Of Bear Kings and Foolish Pirates**

 _This…is Berk._

 _It's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death. Located solidly on the meridian of Misery..._

 _From those words, you may infer two things: that the weather is, by and large, considered unpleasant._

 _And that my fifteen year-old-self was no Skald..._

 _Anyway, there's an old saying that many hands make light work, and it's certainly true in this case. Although Talons might be a more apt word since most of our workforce consists of..._

 _Well... Dragons._

 _It hasn't been more than a couple of months since Drago Bludvist paid us a visit, and we've pretty much completely repaired the damage caused by the attack._

 _Most of the injured, like Spitelout, are in that peculiar state of being too well to sit around all day, but not well enough to help much either._

 _The dead, like my father, who now watches through stony eyes carved into the cliff-face, won't get any better though..._

 _I'm trying to stay positive; not many of our people died in the attack, and wishing won't help them now, even if they could lend us a hand from Valhalla..._

 _More pertinently, I'm chief now, and I can't afford to dwell on such things._

 _I do so more than I should anyway. That's just the way I am..._

 _However, I have to agree with Astrid, my Thane, or General as the southlanders would name her; I have other things to worry about..._

 _Just another reason why I love that woman..._

 _News of Drago's defeat spread far and wide as his human army fractured into warbands._

 _Some of these had been pressed into service, and after a few awkward moments, purchased supplies sufficient for their homeward journeys and left the Archipelago. The inevitable exceptions have caused no end of trouble for all of us who live in these islands, and there have been deaths. Some smaller islands have been wiped out..._

 _And, of course, Berk gets the blame for this._

 _They say it's our fault; that if we hadn't started to ride dragons, he wouldn't have thought us a threat. That we could have swooped down on his ships and burned them with our dragon army._

 _What they don't know, or choose not to, is that that 'army' numbers fifteen riders. And that's if we include all of the auxiliary riders, and Gobber, all of whom have more than enough to do as is._

 _Just because a lot of us can ride dragons, doesn't mean we're all combat capable. And certainly doesn't mean we want to be..._

 _Then, just a couple of weeks after Drago had left, I get a letter from an old comrade in arms of my Dad's._

 _He never really talked about his campaigns with me, in fact all I remember him saying about this one at the time was an unflattering comparison between myself, six years-old at the time, and the man's four-year-old daughter..._

 _In any case, he had heard about Dad's death and sent me a page of diplomatic small-talk that made it clear that he was more than a little bit concerned about what I meant to do with the Dragon 'army' I'd captured from Drago._

 _Well, if a king, with an army of his own is unsettled by us, you can't really ignore it..._

 _Still, his letter was friendly enough, and he and Dad clearly got on quite well, so having a king well disposed towards us seemed such a good idea we..._

 _...okay if I'm honest,_ _ **I**_ _decided to invite him here to Berk._

 _To my faint surprise he accepted with fewer reservations than my people..._

 _He and Dad_ must _have gotten on well..._

 _So, Fergus of Dunbroch, High King of Four Clans of Scotland, The Bear King himself, is coming to Berk, along with all the court paraphernalia that entails._

 _And the daughter I remember being compared to, though she's probably eighteen by now. Apparently her name is Merida._

 _I'm worried..._

 _For obvious reasons._

 _Or I would be worried about the intrinsic problem of entertaining a king on an island less than a hundredth the size of his kingdom, if not for the_ _ **slightly**_ _more pressing concern that his ship was due here this morning._

 _And it's already nearly sunset..._

 _Whatever my people's opinion of how bad an idea this whole thing was, the Viking laws of Hospitality are very clear on the subject of losing guests..._

 _A search party may be in order..._

 **oooo**

Merida had to admit she was getting a little apprehensive now. The delay in getting to Berk after the long sea voyage was one thing, but the sea fog that had wrapped their ship in a suffocating embrace for most of the day was another thing all together.

The helmsman, engaged in whispered conversation with her father was clearly lost, and with the sun beginning to set, as far as they could tell, the prospect of spending a night aboard where they couldn't see more than a ship's length away from them in any direction was not appealing. That they'd lost sight of the other ship in their convoy was also worrying.

Though she'd never admit it, she was quite glad of the warm, green woollen dress her mother had insisted she take with her, as it was every bit as cold as her dad's contacts had said it would be.

"Not much of a view, is it?"

Merida turned to one of her travelling companions. Because of the enforced proximity, she'd got to know them fairly well over the last few days, but being one of only two women aboard, she was glad she had her own space below deck. Even if she had to share it with a seemingly perpetually sea-sick lady-in-waiting...

It wasn't that she had any particular grudge against the poor woman, it was just that she didn't like the idea of a protocol that tied her at the hip to someone who had been selected for the job by the sole reason of another protocol altogether. At least _she_ was easy for her to get along with.

The clans had all wanted to send a representative along, and the rushed nature of this excursion meant that the men that had come along were just whoever happened to be available.

The MacGuffin representative was a heavily built man with a neatly clipped beard. His name was Alec, and the resemblance to his Laird was unmistakable enough that the fact he was the Laird's younger cousin was obvious. She didn't know him very well, by virtue of the fact that he was on the other ship, wherever that was.

The Dingwall man standing next to her at the ship's rail didn't look anything like his Laird, having darker and neater hair, out from under which a pair of equally dark eyes gazed coolly and cautiously. Keith was his name, and as he was firm but fair, and more pertinently, not inclined to casually dismiss what she had to say, Merida had to admit she rather liked him.

Then the annoying Macintosh...

Merida needed no distinctive feature to recognise _him_. Tomas Macintosh's air of pompous arrogance extended at least an arms' length out from him, the mixture of seemingly well-educated and well-informed speech clashing incongruously with his obvious pride in the Macintosh rough plaid and blue face-paint.

Credit where it was due, he seemed to have learned (or been taken aside and quietly told more likely) that casual misogyny with women in the room would win him no friends, but the simpering 'respect' that had taken its place was no better.

"It's an improvement on sharp pointy rocks or jagged cliffs..." Merida replied, focusing on the here and now, rather than letting Macintosh annoy her without even being nearby.

"True enough." Dingwall replied. "A shipwreck would be all we needed right now..."

"Shh!" Snapped Merida suddenly, fixing her gaze on an area of fog directly ahead of her.

 _A neck like a bent branch, a strange bow-shaped lower jaw..._

 _And it was gone again..._

 _What_ _ **was**_ _that?_

"Ripples..." Dingwall whispered. Merida glanced at the sea's surface, seeing a small, but definite disturbance there. Her hand strayed to her bow, slung over her shoulder.

"You might want to stand back, open your range a bit..." Dingwall advised, in a low voice. Merida squashed her annoyance. He could shoot, but he wasn't a hunter. He knew no better.

"Sea-Dragons don't attack humans unless they consider them a threat." She said, a fact she sincerely hoped was true. "Like say, a weapon pointed at them..."

The tales of drunken sailors she had heard once-removed from the guards travelling with them were not the most reliable of sources however. She took two steps back from the rail, Dingwall at her side, noting with a quiet, detached part of her mind that the whole deck had gone silent.

A sudden movement in the water, clearly audible, suddenly had Dingwall going for his sword.

"Guards!" a voice called.

"Peace!" Merida snapped, bringing her bow arm up away from the weapon. The wake of the whatever-it-was was moving swiftly away from the ship. "It's moving away..."

"Where?" Gordon, the guard captain asked from behind her, bow out. Merida pointed. He nodded. He trusted her judgement.

"She's right boys, it's moving off." He said "But why the hell did she see it before you all did?" The remaining guards had the sense to look vaguely abashed as they turned back to watching the fog with greater vigilance than before.

"Just as well you're here..." Dingwall said, putting his half-drawn sword away again as Gordon went to hector his men some more.

Merida exhaled, blowing her cheeks out in the process. Her first encounter with a dragon...

Oddly disappointing.

But then again, she was alive...

A large hand came down on her shoulder, and she looked up at her father.

"Must you embarrass our soldiers, Merida?" he asked, a faint smile ghosting his face.

"You didn't want me to shut my eyes and jam my fingers in my ears did you?" She replied.

"Respectfully princess," the nearest guard piped up, with a small smile, without turning away from the area of sea he was watching. "We'd rather you didn't..."

Macintosh, shadowing King Fergus as always, glared at the man's back, no doubt wondering how best to rebuke him for being too familiar with her. He was frustrated in that effort by the King chuckling.

"No, I wouldn't either..." he said.

"Sir!" snapped the guard suddenly, drawing his bow, as a dark shape loomed from the fog.

"Ship to Port!" Someone else shouted. It was a second before they realised this was the other side of the ship to the shadow, which was indeed a longship of Viking make, though fairly run down in condition. Several men, all heavily armed, were visible on the prows of both ships.

 _Everything's happening at once!_ Merida thought, raising her own bow and reaching for her quiver. Her father's hand pushed her firmly backwards.

"Look after the helmsman." he said in a low voice. "They might be friendly, but if they're not, I want him defended."

Merida held his gaze for a second, but nodded and moved in the man's direction.

Reckless she may have been, but she wasn't stupid.

"Anyone you recognise?" she heard Dingwall whisper. Her father shook his head curtly, then straightened up.

"Ahoy friends!" he called, with the appearance of good humour. "Who are we to thank for our timely rescue?"

"No-one!" came back the amused reply, almost immediately. "You've not been rescued!"

"Who's the girl?" Someone on the other ship asked, with a leer in his voice, in the laughter that followed. Merida spun round and nocked an arrow in the same movement, only to see several arrows pointed at her own ship.

"Aww," said one of the men holding a Bow, "the lass thinks she can shoot!" The laughter returned, redoubled.

 _If only he knew..._ Merida thought, but she couldn't fight a squad, not even with the short sword she had stowed below deck. Conscious she was now the centre of attention, she glanced back at her father.

King Fergus was slowly purpling with rage at the insults done to her, but replied in a relatively level voice.

"Vikings, where is your hospitality?"

The man who had spoken first grinned, showing several missing teeth.

"Your pardon good sir," he said mockingly, "but I think we have misplaced it!"

Merida could feel the tension building, and got the sense that the attackers were waiting for something...

"Now, if you'd just make things easy on yoursel-" the man's grin abruptly vanished as a high-pitched call began to sound in the distance.

Merida turned to the prow of their own ship, just in time to see a ring of ghostly purple light wash down the length of the ship, the sound travelling with it. There was no heat to speak of, just a purplish glow in the gathering dark, like the sound had taken form.

"Night Fury!" one of the attackers cried, leaping for a ballista mounted on his own ship. As if that were the signal they'd been waiting for, most of the attackers ran for similar weapons, or pointed their own skywards. Five or six of them, led by Missing-teeth, jumped aboard the Scots vessel, crying variations on the theme of "Grab them, quick!"

They were most fortunate, as the Starboard-side vessel abruptly listed hard away from the Scottish one, under the weight of a blue, bird-like shape that had landed on the rigging. The ship might have gone over all together, had the shape not taken flight again. As it was, it rocked back and forth for well over a minute, causing minor injuries, acute seasickness, and a disinclination to give trouble among most of the remaining crew.

At the same time, the port side vessel was set upon by wings of fire.

It took Merida a moment to realise that it was in fact a pair of Dragons, on fire from the neck down. An unmistakable trait that she recognised immediately.

"Monstrous Nightmare..." Merida breathed, as the dragons exhaled in twin lines of flame down the deck of the attacker's vessel.

She turned, to see her companions having drawn their swords now, fighting off the boarders, who seemed surprised at the fact they could defend themselves as well as they could.

Thus distracted, she failed to see the man who grabbed her from behind. She elbowed him in the stomach, and turned, raising her bow again, just in time to see the helmsman strike him in the helmet with an inexpertly wielded mace. The foul-smelling man went over like a felled tree.

 _I should be protecting_ him _..._ Merida thought, as the helmsman's goofy grin was illuminated by an explosion on the port side ship. A huge, beetle-like dragon was hovering over the ship, which was now, quite obviously sinking. What drew Merida's attention was the high-backed saddle, just behind the dragon's head, and the grinning, black-haired man sitting in it.

The piercing, sonic call was back again, this time flying over the starboard side ship, still rocking faintly. Merida caught a brief glimpse of a swift black shape as it knifed over the ship, circling.

Missing-teeth saw this too, and waved his axe in the air.

"Come down here and fight, Coward!" he roared after it.

There was a dull thump behind him, and Merida saw Dingwall, having knocked his opponent down, gasp in shock.

She turned her head, as a figure in black leather rose from the deck, its head encased in a black helmet, and arms connected to its legs by...

...wings?

The figure slipped its wrists free of a pair of loops, and the wings, that Merida could now see were made of hide, fell loose to its sides.

Missing-teeth growled, and charged the figure, who produced a sword hilt and handle from its belt. There was a barely audible click, and suddenly, the sword had a blade, about three-feet long, apparently made entirely of fire.

Missing-teeth flinched away from it, and got his axe hooked on the blade, pulling it from his grasp. Before he could recover, a purple bolt of plasma struck him in the side, knocking him to the deck, groaning.

Both Merida and the helmsman ducked involuntarily as the black dragon swooped over their heads and landed next to the figure. One attacker tried to rise, but was abruptly pinned to the deck by the talons of the blue bird-like dragon as it landed, its barbed tail lashing to and fro.

"Guards!" Squeaked Macintosh, waving his sword in fright. The blue dragon fixed him with a cocked headed stare, as a petite blonde woman rose from behind its spiky head crest, wielding an axe of her own, and made as if to leap at him.

"Hold!" King Fergus bellowed. "Hold I say." The young woman glanced at the black-clad figure, who had raised his own hand, then steadied herself on her dragon's back.

"Unless I miss my guess, these are our _hosts_ ," he proclaimed. Weapons were lowered, but not put away, a fact not unnoticed by the two dragons, who seemed on edge still.

"Astrid," the figure said, gesturing, putting his own weapon, the blade now extinguished, away. The woman stowed her own axe somewhere on her saddle, then spoke soothingly to her mount.

Merida kept her eyes on the black-clad figure, as he lifted his left leg – she could now see it was false below the knee – and it spun, becoming a metal foot more appropriate for walking around on. As he bent at the waist to do this, she noted a fin rising from his back.

"King Fergus of Dunbroch?" enquired the figure, turning his blank-faced visor to the king.

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir," he replied in a neutral tone. They'd been fooled once already tonight...

The figure hesitated.

"Oh, right... One moment..." He said, reaching down to his legs, where the 'wings' were flapping loose, taking a couple of moments to roll them up and stow them in pouches attached to his legs. Straightening up again, he wound a small dial to the left of his chest, and the fin on his back slowly retracted into the armour again. These motions drew the attention of most all present to him.

Now looking much more human, he reached up and removed his helmet. The tousled brown hair that emerged wasn't even shoulder length, but Merida noted a couple of small braids in it all the same.

"Hiccup Haddock III," the young man said, once the helm was removed. "Son of Stoick the Vast. In Odin's gaze, Chief in Berk."

 **oooo**

"Hail, well met," Hiccup added, keeping his eyes on the king, trying to ignore the wide-eyed disbelief of the people around them.

"Hail, well met, and honour be upon your house," King Fergus replied. "And since we've obeyed the forms, what's say we put them aside for now, where they belong?"

"Your majesty... has no concept of what a relief that is..." said Hiccup, smiling uncertainly, not wanting to get too informal right away, but the relief was entirely genuine. To his further relief, Fergus laughed.

"Oh I think I do! I was a chief like you until someone decided I looked better with a crown on my head..."

Hiccup didn't know how to respond to that, particularly since Fergus wasn't wearing a crown, so he was quite relieved when Fishlegs hailed him from above his head.

"I don't think all the pirates can swim..." he called. There were indeed cries of distress from the smouldering wreckage of the sinking ship.

"That ship isn't sinking," he said, pointing at the other one, now being secured by the king's men. "You and Eret get them aboard, then help keep order."

"Got it chief," Eret called from nearby, moving to assist immediately.

"You," said Astrid, to the recumbent attacker, having persuaded Stormfly to get off him. "Get back there too. Leave your weapons!" The man staggered in the direction of the gunwale with a drunken species of haste. He needed help from a couple of his fellows to get aboard, but fared better than the man with missing teeth, who was unceremoniously picked up, semi-conscious, and thrown onto his own ship by a couple of guards.

"Sorry we're overdue, we got lost," said Fergus, smiling at Hiccup. "I'm afraid we rather assumed that your trader friend was exaggerating about this archipelago's fog banks..." he added with a wince.

"You wouldn't be the first." Hiccup replied, looking around at the gloomy sky. Night had fallen properly now. "But this is bad, even by our standards..."

"Snotlout, Gustav!" Astrid called out. "While you're both still alight, see what you can do with the fog."

The acknowledgements of the two riders were lost in the crashing noises of Meatlug and Skullcrusher looking through the wreckage of the stricken ship, but both Hookfang and Fanghook, still aflame, began circling the ship at high speed.

The King leant forward to speak to Hiccup quietly.

"Are either of them related to Spitelout Jorgensen?" he asked.

"Snotlout's his son," Hiccup replied, "Gustav just idolises Snotlout... How did you know?"

Snotlout chose this particular moment to let out a wild whoop as he passed by. Fergus looked from him back to Hiccup.

"Call it a lucky guess." he said dryly.

The King's conspiratorial smile reminded Hiccup inexplicably of King Mikkel of Nepenthe. Unlike the young chief of that island however, there was no sense of feckless irresponsibility like that which Mikkel had displayed initially. Quite the opposite in fact; Fergus radiated a solid competence that reminded Hiccup a lot of his father.

"There was another ship with us," a dark-haired man next to the king said.

"They're safe," Astrid called across from her perch on Stormfly's back. "They dropped anchor just outside the fog. They're worried sick about you all, but they're fine. We left some riders with them."

The inquirer nodded. King Fergus cocked his head, staring at her for a moment.

"Didn't catch your name, young lady..." he said, sounding curious.

"King Fergus, may I present, Astrid Hofferson, my Thane, and Stormfly." Hiccup said, introducing them formally. The dragon squawked at the mention of her name.

Fergus brightened visibly.

"So _you're_ young Astrid!" he said, "Your Uncle could barely shut up about you!"

Astrid blinked, and looked away, embarrassed.

"He'd... be honoured you remembered him," she said eventually, patting her chuckling dragon in a distracted fashion.

"Hard to forget him!" Fergus laughed. "Or Stoick..." he added, more soberly. "I was sorry to hear of his passing..."

Hiccup smiled as best he could. "From what I hear, you got along well..."

"Aye..." said Fergus, his eyes misting for a moment. "I didn't expect to find I had _this much_ in common with _you_ though," he added, slapping his false leg.

Hiccup looked down, registering the king's missing extremity properly for the first time.

"Me neither..." he replied, looking down at his own prosthetic limb.

"I would hope demon bears aren't common in these waters?"

Hiccup shook his head. "I'd hope you don't have a Red Death in your lands either!"

The name turned heads, as well it might. Eventually, Fergus chuckled.

"Even after all this time, you Vikings never run out of long stories!"

Hiccup laughed too, finally beginning to feel comfortable with the man. "Oh we have a few of those all right!" He looked up at the slowly receding fog. The stars were becoming visible again. "Around the hearth in Berk maybe... Can I see your charts?"

"Princess!" a voice suddenly rang out.

 **oooo**

Merida jumped, having focused upon the conversation between Hiccup and her father. Macintosh's cry hadn't surprised her as much as the sudden feeling of someone touching her hair, and she span round.

The black dragon froze, eyes wide, one claw extended towards her. For an infinite moment, neither of them moved. Then the dragon shifted its head slightly, the pupils of its eyes dilating, nostrils sniffing gently.

The attitude was one of intense curiosity, and Merida was surprised to find that she wasn't afraid of him.

"Toothless."

The dragon looked past Merida at Hiccup.

"Give her some space, bud. She's not used to dragons yet." He sounded far away all of a sudden.

"Toothless..." Merida whispered. The Dragon looked back at her and made a low noise in his throat. Moved by an impulse she couldn't explain, Merida hooked her bow over her shoulder and raised her right hand slightly.

"Perhaps you'd better come over here Merida." came her father's voice, suddenly sounding far too loud for the occasion.

Merida flinched as if she had only just come awake, and lowered her hand again.

"Right..." she said, moving away slowly.

Toothless looked over at King Fergus, looking slightly annoyed.

"Your dragon seems to like my daughter..." Fergus said as she walked over to them.

"Toothless is naturally curious," Hiccup explained, drawing a book out from under his chest armour "but he's mostly harmless."

"Mostly?" queried Macintosh, sounding mildly alarmed and clutching his sword again.

"If he gets too friendly, the slobber doesn't wash out." said Hiccup off-handedly, kneeling down on the deck.

Toothless scowled and stuck his tongue out in Hiccup's direction, making a gargling noise. Hiccup's head snapped up from where he'd laid the open book on the deck.

"Manners, Bud!" he said with a grin, pointing with his left hand.

The snort of exasperation that Toothless gave him was almost human. The way he curled up sulkily, hiding his head under his tail however, put Merida in mind of a big cat. She couldn't help smiling.

"And you call yourself the king of the Dragons..." she heard Astrid mutter. Stormfly made a cackling noise that it took Merida a moment to identify as laughter.

"King... of...?" Macintosh was out of his depth already.

"Well, he did beat Drago's Bewilderbeast." Astrid replied, speaking to Macintosh in the studiously neutral tone that translated to everyone but him that she was more than mildly annoyed with him.

"Be... wilder..."

Fergus however was paying no attention at all.

"My word..."

Merida turned around again, noticing that Hiccup had spread out a map from his book, spectacular enough that it eventually drew the attention of all present. The helmsman seemed highly embarrassed by the charts he had purchased for the trip as he handed them over.

"Okay... so you're about here..." Hiccup muttered, pointing it out on both charts. "Nice charts by the way... they look up to date..."

Merida knelt down beside the spread chart as Hiccup and the helmsman lapsed into the incomprehensible dialect of the specialist, then frowned. Did those runes mean what she thought they did?

"Itchy... Armpit...?"

"Oh, you didn't actually call it that, did you?" Astrid said, dismounting and walking over to where Hiccup was kneeling. He looked up at her.

"Well, Toothless did as much for this map as you and me!" he said, his voice faintly teasing. "I asked what we should call it and he scratched his armpit! Don't _you_ listen to your dragon? What was I supposed to do?" He glanced around as if looking for support from present company.

"Not commit geographical vandalism?" Astrid shot back, with what sounded like genuine exasperation.

Merida snorted with laughter, which made Hiccup turn to look at her, smiling faintly, before looking back at the charts, turning a scarred chin towards her in the process.

The young princess found herself studying him.

All she recalled of Stoick was a huge, fur-clad shape with a thick beard, through which a smile could faintly be discerned. Some memory courtesy of Merida's four-year-old self told her that it was the same smile, even if the stature and facial hair were different. Or absent.

He had a slim build, like Ryan Macintosh, the laird's son, but he wasn't so muscular. He seemed intelligent, not unlike young MacGuffin, who had a good mind behind the quiet nature, huge build and incomprehensible accent.

It was strange though...

Most of the chiefs she'd met or heard tell of were elitist or stuck up, but Hiccup seemed equally at ease with speaking to the helmsman as he did to her father. Although he did tend to make a point of looking round and showing he was paying attention in the case of the latter.

She found this rather appealing.

 _Perhaps if he'd been along two years ago,_ Merida thought, _the family argument wouldn't have happened..._

No sooner had she thought that, than she became aware that Astrid was studying _her_ intently, frowning slightly.

 _Right... Girlfriend..._

Merida looked down at the chart again, squashing the vague feeling of disappointment. _Wake up_ , she thought irritably, _that's not what you're here for..._

The chart was easy to become distracted by at least.

Several drawings of different Dragons adorned the centre, circling the stylised (and slightly idealised no doubt) drawing of the Isle of Berk.

 _A neck like a bent branch, a strange bow-shaped lower jaw..._

"Wait!" Merida called, as Hiccup handed back the charts, and made to fold up his own. "What's that one?"

Hiccup looked down at the chart again. "Which one? Oh, the Scauldron?"

"I think I saw one earlier, before the pirates attacked..."

"Where?" said Astrid abruptly.

"Um..." Merida found herself on the spot. She pointed out to the Starboard side of the ship. "It was out in the fog, so I couldn't judge..."

"Is that a problem?" Fergus asked, as apprehensive faces turned outwards again. Hiccup shot Astrid a brief glare before answering, the petite woman having the good grace to look slightly abashed at having worried people.

"Not normally," Hiccup said, folding the chart up and putting it away behind his breast piece. "Our concern is that the warbands have stirred them up a bit... Fishlegs! Eret!"

The heavily-built young man flew into earshot properly on the back of a dragon that looked like nothing so much as an overgrown sausage with a knobbly club tail. The older man left his larger, beetle-like dragon to menace the rescued pirates into order and came up to the gunwale of the captured ship.

"We've had a Scauldron sighting. It probably won't be much of a problem, but we don't want to take chances. Stay with the king until his party get to Berk and keep order with the prisoners."

"Much obliged, Chief," Fergus said, slightly surprised, as both men moved to obey.

"Fishlegs Ingerman is one of our experts," Astrid explained, "And Eret was once a trapper, so he knows how to discourage dragons away from ships."

"Plus, they're both good sailors." Hiccup added.

At this point, the two Monstrous Nightmares, now extinguished, came to a flapping stop over the ship.

"Fog's clear!" A surprisingly young man on the back of the purple dragon reported, grinning.

"Great. Gustav! You're path-finding for this ship until it meets up with my mother and the twins, then head back to Berk," Hiccup ordered. "Anything bigger than a Sea-Shocker, make sure they know about it. The princess has made one Scauldron sighting already," he added, indicating Merida.

"Aye aye, Chief." Said the young man. He turned his dragon around and started flying away.

"Nice and efficient..." Dingwall muttered.

"We do our best!" Astrid replied, brightly.

"You should be in Berk by this time tomorrow, all things being well," Hiccup said, gathering up his helmet again. "And we'll see that all's well!"

Fergus barked with laughter.

"Looking forward to it, Lad! Looking forward to it!"

"Toothless!"

The Dragon lifted his tail as if trying to decide whether to stay sulking or not, but allowed Hiccup to mount him. The young chief reached down to his leg and it changed configuration again, interlocking with the pedals on the Dragon's harness. It was only at this point that Merida realised that Toothless' tail was false, and that these pedals were less like stirrups (not that she ever used them anyway), and were probably essential for his ability to fly.

"To a warm hearth," Hiccup said. Fergus needed a second to come up with the response demanded by protocol.

"And... to cool mead!" he said at last. "I think we'll need it!" he added.

Hiccup grinned, snapping the faceless visor down over his face again.

"Count on it!" he said, to further laughter. He shifted his mechanical leg, there was a clack of moving parts, a red portion of Toothless' tail extended, and the Night Fury leapt near vertically into the air.

Astrid's blue dragon followed by virtue of jumping to the ship's rail and simply stepping off over the shifting wreckage of the second pirate ship, wings flapping hard to gain height.

The red Monstrous Nightmare swept down the length of the ship after the other dragons, its rider dead set on catching them up.

"Well," Fergus said, after several seconds of silence, "what do you think to _that_?" He turned, and Merida saw a huge boyish grin on his face, and felt her own face lift in parallel.

"A wonderful display..." Macintosh said, carefully. Merida looked at him.

"Display?" she frowned. He shrugged.

"A Dragon sighting, a pirate attack, _and_ an opportunity to prove their good intentions, all inside of a few minutes..." he said, "too much happening at once for us to react properly..."

"You are a real cynic Tomas, you know that?" Fergus replied, his hands on his hips with exasperation.

"I think it my duty to ask the questions no-one else dares to." said Macintosh, smoothly.

"Well if I might _dare_ to answer it," Keith Dingwall replied, "I would think the answer would be, 'unlikely in the extreme'!"

Tomas subsided, and further conversation on that topic was suspended on the grounds of tact by the lumpy sausage Dragon landing nearby, and the large young man dismounting. He bowed, with some difficulty.

"Fishlegs Ingerman, your majesty," he said, "and the lovely lady next to me is Meatlug. How might we be of service?"

Meatlug's tongue lolled like that of a dog, the club-tail wagging in similar canine fashion. The combination of familiar and outlandish was both comical, and unnerving at once.

Merida however was looking over the prow, after the retreating chief and his party, thinking particularly of the dagger look that the young man on the red nightmare had been giving Macintosh. The look on _his_ face suggested that the feeling was mutual.

This was going to be interesting...

 **oooo**

"You felt that, right Astrid?" Snotlout asked.

"Be specific," Astrid asked, trying hard to get the image of the red-headed princess studying Hiccup out of her head.

Snotlout flew as close to Astrid and Stormfly as he dared.

"Something was off about all that..." he said, trying not to draw Hiccup's attention, as if hanging back and speaking to Astrid out of earshot wouldn't do that...

"In what way?"

"They didn't look too happy at being rescued..." he said. "That guy with the blue-painted face was glaring daggers at me the whole time..."

"They probably didn't think they needed it. Those guys were hopeless..."

 _Who brings their daughter into a warzone? Someone with a specific aim in mind..._

"Astrid! Are you listening?"

"Wha... sorry Snotlout... What was that?"

Snotlout groaned. "I said that's the point, how did they get the chance to _be_ so useless? The warbands that were once Drago's army would have eaten them alive!"

 _She was certainly pretty, and_ her _dad's a king! What could_ **you** _give him?_

"Look, they're not used to Dragons yet, and some of them have had problems with raiders recently. Viking raiders. Maybe they don't like being shown to be wrong after so long hating our kind."

Astrid only realised she had answered the wrong question when Snotlout blinked at her.

"Astrid. Pirates. Useless. Why? How?" he said.

Astrid sighed. "Odin looks out for small minds!" she snapped, then regretted it. "Look Snotlout, I have a lot on _my_ mind right now..."

 _You never saw what Hiccup wrote to her dad, did you?_

Well, it wasn't like he needed her permission... So why did she feel left out?

"Astrid... do you remember when we first met Heather?"

 _Oh yes, don't you? Hiccup liked_ her _then, didn't he... Shame she got all edgy... and... you know..._

 _More like you..._

"Get to the point." Astrid tried to stop her mind cycling, and Snotlout wasn't helping.

"You were right about her all along and no-one listened!"

Astrid sighed and looked up at him.

"I _am_ listening Snotlout. I just... don't have the head space to think about it right now..."

Snotlout actually stopped himself from replying at her expression.

Stormfly and Hookfang flew on in an increasingly awkward silence. Finally Snotlout sighed.

"Look," he said, "my dad... well, do I need to finish? But... he's not that bad a judge of character when he's fought beside someone. He likes King Fergus, and now I've seen him myself, I agree with him. But he hasn't come alone, has he? That's what, or who, I'm worried about..."

 _No, he hasn't..._

"There we agree..." Astrid replied. It seemed easier to just go along with it...

"Great. Now can you get that through Hiccup's mussy hair?"

"What? Why me?"

"He listens to you!"

 _He relies on you... He worries about you... He can't imagine a world without you in it..._

 _What is he_ not _saying here?_

"Okay..." Astrid replied. The lacklustre nature of her response wasn't lost on Snotlout.

"Everything okay back here?" said Hiccup, slowing Toothless to allow them to catch up, his visor raised for easy speech.

Astrid felt Snotlout's gaze on the back of her neck.

"Hiccup, there's some people in the king's party we're not sure about..."

The young chief frowned. Snotlout seized the opportunity to launch into what he had noticed about the King's party, but Astrid wasn't really listening. Eventually, Hiccup spoke up again.

"No, Blue-face isn't my type either Snotlout. But I'm not asking you to like them, just be polite."

"So nothing's off about the timing of that "attack" to you?" Snotlout shot back.

"What advantage would it give anyone on that ship to stage it?"

Snotlout groaned. "Hiccup, I kept saying Johann was bad luck, and look what happened..." he trailed off, noting Hiccup's expression.

In spite of the warning glare, both Astrid and Snotlout could see Hiccup was considering Snotlout's words.

"Fair point," he said at last, "I was focusing on the King... So I didn't see what you did... There might be some politics in his court going on we're not aware of... keep your eyes open, both of you. Guests they may be, but I'm not about to be used as someone's Maces and Talons piece... Are you alright Astrid?"

 _Hiccup's been so driven... And I know there's a lot he's not telling me... What is he planning?_

Astrid managed a tired smile. "A lot on my mind..." she said vaguely. Hiccup smiled back.

"Get some sleep when we get home. You know how I rely on you."

 _He certainly does..._

"Yeah... I do..."

Snotlout looked from Hiccup to Astrid as the young chief flew off ahead, suddenly unsure of what to do...

Astrid clutched the amulet under her tunic. The amulet that had been given to Valka by Stoick, then to Hiccup to give to her...

"I do..." she murmured to herself.

 _But does he?_

Hiccup had once told her that she knew who she was, that she always had.

Suddenly, Astrid Hofferson wasn't so sure...

 **oooo**

Huddled in a corner against the cold, Matthias kept out of Eret's way as the former dragon trapper walked the deck, frowning to himself. It was obvious that he could see something wasn't right, but he wasn't sure what.

This was the most dangerous part of the plan. While they weren't distracted by any other problems...

The plan's architect was a genius though! He had clearly known Hiccup Haddock well. Not that his other ally would ever acknowledge this.

The major stumbling blocks so far were Eret, about whom he knew little or nothing and unpredictable Valka, neither of whom the plan's architect had accounted for, by virtue of not knowing they existed.

He let out a shallow exhalation of relief as Eret sighted one of the king's guards and tried to engage him in conversation.

Just a few hours more...

* * *

Well, there we go. More to come soon, I hope!


	2. Chapter 2

(Hello everyone! Sorry its been a while, reality bit pretty hard lately... Anyway, here's more of Disney and Dreamworks finest! Bonus points to whoever spots the HTTYD2 deleted scene I've converted!)

* * *

 **Of Reunions and Suspicions**

"I don't see exactly why anyone would care about what I wear..."

"I'm not bothered particularly. But then, I'm not royalty."

"Neither is Hiccup!"

"But you are!"

Merida sighed. "This sounds familiar, Amelia..."

The young woman couldn't help smiling, even as she shook her head, setting her silvery blond hair braids swinging. Merida hated to argue with her, particularly since she had only just got over her latest bout of seasickness, and wondered -not for the first time either- if that had been her mother's major consideration in her choosing Amelia as a lady-in-waiting.

"We _have_ had this discussion before, haven't we?" she agreed.

"How can the clothes I wear offend someone?"

"I have seen it happen in person..." Amelia said, in the tone of voice that implied she wasn't telling all of the story. Merida decided not to push the issue.

"Look, I can deal with the dress, its just the hair... thing..."

The disagreement was centred around a piece of cloth that was to be fashioned into a head covering, held in place by a circlet of leather called a Kransen, to symbolise the fact Merida wasn't yet married.

Merida, accustomed to her frizzy red hair flapping loose around her face, wasn't impressed.

Then she heard a voice approaching the curtain separating them from the rest of the space below deck.

"I know!" she said, brightly. "Let's ask!" And to Amelia's chagrin (though not, it must be admitted, to her surprise), she thrust the curtain aside, revealing Fishlegs Ingerman, making good use of his strength to help move some of the Scottish stores up from the hold.

"Master Ingerman, could you advise me on a matter of protocol?"

Her sudden appearance startled him and the guard he was speaking with, but he rallied fast as Merida made her enquiry regarding the head piece of her outfit.

"I... don't know so much about protocol, princess..." he said, "but no woman on Berk would like being forced to wear a head-dress that could catch fire so easily..."

Merida's cheeky grin abruptly vanished, and from Amelia's sheepish expression, it was clear that she hadn't thought of this.

"That's... a point..." the young princess admitted. She turned to Amelia. "We might need to rethink the wardrobe a bit..."

"As far as the hair goes," Fishlegs went on, gesturing as best he could with his hands full of stores, "you may want to keep the Kransen to tie it back... Maybe braid it? For the same reason."

Merida forced herself to keep her grimace internal. Her father had told her once that she would lose some battles regardless of what she did, both in the literal sense and in the political sense, and that part of the trick was to fight only the battles she must.

In truth, she wasn't finding this very easy at all...

That said, Astrid had looked quite attractive with her hair braided, and she supposed that if it was good enough for a chief's girlfriend, it would suit her fine. She was even more certain that having it burned off would not!

As she thanked Fishlegs for his help, Merida realised that she wasn't disappointed by the fact Hiccup was already spoken for any more. She did however, find that she wanted to do things properly in spite of this change.

 _I guess I'm growing up after all..._ she thought.

 **oooo**

Astrid watched the four longships chosen to escort the two Scottish vessels into the docks pull away towards their guests, sitting not far out from the island. The island was in an uproar with final preparations, but she just couldn't summon the urgency to join in.

"Astrid?" said a voice behind her.

Oh yes, that was why...

"Hiccup. I think we're about as ready as we'll ever be," she said, without turning round.

"Good." he replied. "This _has_ to work..."

Again, the tone in his voice that disturbed her for no reason she could explain.

 _Why was he so desperate to make a good impression? Why did it_ _ **need**_ _to work so badly? What isn't he saying?_

She exhaled; how did she articulate this? Was now the time, when things were so delicate?

She fingered her Betrothal necklace absently.

...and Hiccup surprised her by slipping his arms around her waist.

"You only wear that necklace when you're feeling neglected, don't you..." he murmured softly into her left ear. "I'm sorry..."

"What? No! No, I've... been wearing it under my tunic since we left the Edge..."

She felt Hiccup smile, and heard him sigh sadly. "Well, either way I haven't made time for you recently, and that's going to get a bit harder while our guests are here..."

"That isn't a bad excuse, as they go," Astrid replied, half-turning towards him. Hiccup chuckled half-heartedly.

"Well, I certainly think so..."

 _And don't you feel selfish now!_

Astrid exhaled again. Her thoughts abruptly derailed.

"Astrid?" Hiccup asked, sounding concerned.

Astrid swallowed her turmoil.

 _He needs me._

"It's fine, Hiccup. You have a village to worry about." She embraced him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I'm with you..." she whispered, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. She absently noted the cool cloth of his best clothes in place of his leather armour against her cheek.

Hiccup opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted by Gobber telling him the ships were on their way in now. He squeezed her waist briefly.

"We'll talk later," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll _make_ time."

Astrid had to stop herself from clinging to him as he pulled away.

 _Hiccup, don't go... I need you... I love you... I love the man you are, not the infallible Snotlout clone you're trying to be... No, that's not what I mean... I..._

Hiccup was already gone.

She'd said none of it.

She didn't know whether that was a good thing or not...

 **oooo**

Berk was certainly impressive, Merida had to admit. The massive rock stack that contained the great hall (according to Fishlegs anyway) itself dwarfed by the mountain behind it.

The young Princess was quite glad to get ashore, even if she did need to find her 'land legs' after such a long time at sea. Fishlegs had given her quite the information overload of Dragon facts and figures over the last few hours, some of which she had no frame of reference for, and she was eager to see the creatures in the flesh.

Which was why she was mildly disappointed when the only dragon to greet their party at the dockside was Toothless himself. It seemed that they were being kept out of the way temporarily until the visitors were used to the idea of them. Fishlegs had told them if they wanted to meet them under controlled conditions, they could ask instead.

In truth, she was bored all throughout the formal introductions, which (as usual) went on far too long and said very little in a lot of words.

She tried hard not to fiddle with her loose hair braid and Norse-style Kransen. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, she just wasn't used to it.

She did wake up a little when Tomas Macintosh handed over a draft of the treaty they'd proposed between Dunbroch and Berk.

 _When did he get the chance to write that? s_ he wondered.

Her father seemed to be faintly wondering this as well... Mind you, this was part of the reason Tomas was along with them. And he was a mean man with a quill and ink, there was no denying that, however annoying he was.

"Spitelout Jorgensen!"

Merida jumped in surprise at her father's reaction to Hiccup saying he was assigning someone to guide them around Berk. Clearly, he recognised the individual in question.

"Fergus a'Dunbroch!" The man laughed, a wide grin on his face, uncaring or unaware of how Macintosh was grimacing at his failure to use his title.

Not that Fergus cared. He laughed as well, clasping the man's hand.

"How's the wrist?" he asked, gesturing at Spitelout's shield hand. The Berkian paused for a second, then recalled the old injury and glanced at the offending appendage.

"Oh, that's fine now." He lowered his voice sufficiently that only Merida and her father were near enough to hear him. "...It's my back that's the issue right now. A going away present from Drago Bludvist..." he added quickly. He seemed unaware that his tone of voice fooled no-one.

Especially not Fergus, who gave him a sympathetic smile for a moment, before he gestured to Merida. "Do you remember my daughter?"

"I do indeed." Spitelout grinned, bowing slightly in her direction. "Not afraid of anything as I remember it." He looked her up and down. "Pardon my saying so, but you've grown a bit..."

"After fourteen years, I'd hope so!" Merida replied, earning her another Macintosh wince. But even he acknowledged that she was good at reading people and getting the tone right in situations like this. And so it proved to be, if Spitelout's laughter was any indication.

Hiccup excused himself at this point on the grounds of having a few things to do before the feast began, the thought of which brightened everyone's day, and let Spitelout lead the Scots away to their quarters as he turned to deal with the miscellaneous prisoners.

It seemed they were going to be left to sweat for a few days in the cells before Hiccup and her father came to deal with them.

As they filed after their guide, already swapping stories about old times with her father, Merida spotted Astrid staring hard at her, looking distracted. Not knowing what else to do, she dropped a curtesy in her direction.

She was mildly surprised that the response was a tight smile, and a curt inclination of the head, before the Berkian Thane turned hastily away.

Merida wondered briefly at this, then shrugged to herself. She couldn't win everyone over...

 **oooo**

"Most of your men will bed down in the great hall after the feast." Spitelout explained, "But for you and your immediate party..." he gestured around the house expansively.

"Excellent, Excellent." Fergus replied, looking about as his guards made as unobtrusive a search of the house as they could. He noted something that intrigued him, then turned to Spitelout. "I haven't seen Finn Hofferson yet. How is he?"

"Oh, he passed on soon after we last saw you." Spitelout replied. "It's a hard life here." He added, noting Fergus' expression at his matter-of-fact tone. "It's only by Odin's grace and heroic efforts by Hiccup and his father that it's not harder than it is."

 _Hiccup and his father_ , Fergus noted absently, _**not**_ _Stoick and his son_. Worth remembering...

"Is there anyone else left I'd know here?" Fergus asked, hoping the cold breath of mortality he'd just felt wasn't audible in his voice.

"There's about... eight... ten...? Aye, that'd be about right... ten men that remember that campaign. I'll see if I can- YAK DUNG!" Spitelout abruptly lunged for the open door, as a large red and green shape with wings came bounding towards it.

Fergus turned in time to see Spitelout catch the creature in an embrace, the impact of which almost lifted the man from his feet.

"Down boy, down! They're guests, not toys, boyo! BONESNARL!"

Fergus put a protective hand on Merida's shoulder as she moved forward for a better look.

Several people went for weapons, but before any misunderstanding could occur, a deeper roar sounded.

The apple-coloured dragon froze in place where Spitelout was wrestling with it, and Fergus was incongruously reminded of his sons caught in the act of mischief. An apt comparison as it turned out!

An older dragon with armour around its head was trotting towards them, growling sternly at the younger one, which seemed to try to shrink behind Spitelout as he disentangled himself. A final snap, and a sharp jerk of the head, and the older, darker-scaled dragon had had its say. The smaller one slunk away, looking crestfallen.

"Sorry about that," Spitelout gasped, getting to his feet again. "Baby Scuttleclaws get a bit excited with strangers around. They don't mean any harm, they're just playful. Best keep him away from the Dragon-Nip, Bonesnarl!"

Bonesnarl growled low, as if faintly offended that Spitelout thought he needed the reminder. He rumbled gently in Fergus and Merida's direction when he saw them.

Fergus chuckled, clapping Merida on the shoulder, "It's fine, I've been apologising for this one and her brothers for years!" Merida elbowed him in the belly.

Bonesnarl erupted into low rhythmic snorting, his head nodding.

Fergus blinked. He'd spoken out of habit, very much like he did with his dogs. He hadn't expected Bonesnarl to understand that he was making a joke, much less laugh at it.

The armoured dragon gave Fergus a wise, knowing look, then turned and shepherded his charge away.

"He's not the same species," Merida said, her voice mildly curious. She was clearly loving the chance to encounter more dragons.

"Aye... he adopted those little guys... guess he felt lonely..." Spitelout was out of breath with exertion. "Thunderclaws are... social... 'scuse me..." he sat down on the ground just outside the house and tipped his head back against the outside wall.

"Why the armour?" Macintosh asked, looking suspicious. Spitelout shrugged.

"He wanted to keep it. Beats me why, when Drago practically nailed it onto him and all... But he gets really aggressive when you try and get it off him. Otherwise he's as gentle as..." He paused, considering the sentence to come. "Well, he's no kitten, he is a Dragon after all. But he's alright."

Macintosh might have said more, but a look from Alec MacGuffin made him subside. Spitelout got to his feet again, having caught his breath sufficiently.

"I'd better give my boy some attention too. Baby Scuttleclaws are one thing, a fully grown Nadder like Kingstail is another!"

"Wasn't so long ago you told me the best way to kill one of those," Fergus chuckled. Spitelout smiled ruefully.

"Things change, old friend," he said, eventually. He shook himself, and straightened up. "If you need anything, just sing out."

Fergus clasped his hand once more, then let him get on.

"He's mellowed a lot," MacGuffin said quietly as the Berkian walked away. Fergus nodded. He had the feeling that a close encounter with a mad-man and an ice-spitting Behemoth would do that to a man, and expressed as much.

Captain Gordon came up, the search complete, bearing a piece of paper. "All in order sire, even an upstairs space for the ladies. We also found this." He reported, handing the paper to the king. It was crumpled, but proved to be an incomplete drawing of a Night Fury, curled up in sleep.

"Given that the only one able to capture such an intimate depiction of this Dragon would be the chief, it seems he gave up his own house to us." The captain went on.

"I could have told you that," Fergus murmured, walking over to the hearth, where there was already a healthy blaze going, and taking an object from the mantle-piece. It was a whittled wooden duck, one of many. "I remember Stoick whittling one of these by the fire by night..."

"Which one was it?" Alec asked. Fergus paused, duck still held in his hands as he gazed blankly at its fellows on the mantle.

"I have no idea..." he said at last.

That fact bothered him for no reason he could explain.

 **oooo**

Leaving her father to his memories, Merida had Amelia and the guards move her chests of clothes into the upstairs space. There were only a couple of them, so within only a few minutes, she and Amelia were on their own.

Strangely, the bed held less attraction for Merida than the stone slab covered in furs on the floor. Amelia's mild exasperation with this fact lasted right up to the point she was persuaded to sit down upon it herself. As she did so, some furs shifted, revealing the blackened marks that spoke of a dragon's fiery attention upon the stone.

"I guess if this is good enough for the King of the Dragons," the princess said, grinning at her lady-in-waiting.

"Fair words," the woman acknowledged. "I might even take my expected place sleeping at your feet..."

"Amelia! That's humiliating!" Merida replied.

"It's also warm, and has the potential to do wonders for my back!" Amelia responded calmly, laying back in the furs, looking smug.

Merida shook her head in wonderment. "Where did my mother find you?"

"Cromarty."

The habitual, laconic and factually accurate response caused Merida to smile as it always did. "You're not what I expected when she said I was to have a Lady-in-waiting."

Amelia smiled, sitting up again. "You're not what I expected either, princess."

Merida rolled her eyes; she'd given up trying to get Amelia to use her name months before. One thing was certain: she wasn't the stuffy moral guardian that one of Young MacGuffin's sisters had been lumbered with. She was much closer to her in age, bright, politically astute, and spoke Latin and English as well as Gaelic and Norse.

She also knew how to shoe a horse and pick locks. That she was a farrier's daughter explained the first skill, but the second she had always resisted telling Merida how she had learned...

"There is another advantage to sleeping down here." She added, brushing her sliver-blond hair out of her face and grinning cheekily. "You can honestly say you've not slept in the chief's bed!"

Merida frowned. "Where is he sleeping anyway?" She asked, ignoring the deliberate attempt to bait her.

"Probably not with his Thane." Amelia concluded, standing up again. "They do have some standards here."

"Who would be better prepared or motivated to give a would-be assassin a nasty surprise in the bedroom?" Merida shot back.

"Point." Amelia admitted after a moment considering this. She opened a chest. "Now, let's get you dressed for the feast."

 **oooo**

"You're sure you don't mind sleeping down here?" Astrid asked, looking around at the Dragon stables beneath Berk.

Hiccup nodded, sitting down on the bunk in one of the closed off stalls normally used for when riders wanted to stay with sick dragons. Toothless curled up on the slab on the floor beside him.

"If we have guests wandering around, I'd sooner be somewhere they'd hesitate to go if I need to retreat for a while," he said. "Are you sure you're alright?" he added. "You've been really quiet..."

Astrid wasn't sure what to say to this, but she never got the chance to try. An angry delegation of Berkians were approaching, Valka and Gobber flapping ineffectually, and with increasing exasperation at their heels.

Hiccup's heart sank as he saw that Sven, at the head of the group (being propelled by the crowd rather than leading it, and looking very much like he'd rather be anywhere else in fairness to him), was brandishing the treaty Fergus' man had given him.

Given that they were all talking at once, and agitating the dragons around them into making more noise in doing so, Hiccup didn't even try to but in, but gestured to Toothless. The Night Fury rolled his eyes and let out an authoritative sounding roar. Amplified by the cavern walls, it left everyone in the room disinclined to further shouting.

"Sven, what's happened?" he asked, when the echoes had died away. The once elective mute handed him the scroll, which was now looking more than a little tattered around the edges.

"I gave it to the council to read like you asked, and then it got out of hand..." he said.

Hiccup's brain belatedly untangled the words 'Tear it up!' from the prior cacophony, and he handed the scroll off to Astrid, as far from the group as he could.

"Who is this Southlander to tell us who we can and can't sell our Gronkle Iron to?" someone asked.

"He's trying to make sure his enemies don't get their hands on the stuff," Gobber put in, trying to be placating. It didn't work.

"What about that passage about trade tariffs? That's just punitive!"

"Or where we can fly our Dragons?"

"Enough!" Hiccup called out. "I said, ENOUGH!" The angry comments died away, but slowly.

"Did I choose to let Krogan capture Berk?" He asked, when he had most of their attention. "Did I choose to let Viggo chain up a Submarripper in the Straights of Baldur?" This wasn't working the way he'd hoped, as they just looked confused now.

"Hiccup, have you even read the thing?" Someone shot back. The speaker was abruptly clouted over the head by Gobber.

"Show the chief some respect!" he snapped.

"Thank you Gobber, but that's not necessary," Hiccup replied, pretending not to hear the target of Gobber's well-intentioned retribution muttering something about earning it.

"Are you even taking this seriously?" someone else put in. "We're strong enough to stand on our own without some Southlander sticking their nose in!"

Hiccup sighed and looked directly at the speaker, who had taken Sven's place at the head of the group.

"Are you taking ME seriously, Mrs Ack?" he asked her. "Because if I'm allowed to finish what I started saying earlier: Do you seriously believe that I would choose to blindly sign something that would obviously make you all this unhappy?"

Mrs Ack opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her expression however, implied very heavily what it was she had been about to say. Nor was she the only one who felt that way, clearly.

"It's a first draft, in any case," Hiccup went on, "no-one expects you to agree right off the axe unless the other side have a waiting army."

"And we're the ones with that..." someone muttered, eyeing the dragons around them. There was a muted groundswell of agreement.

Seeing his mother's shocked expression, Hiccup stepped in. "I've a better idea. We show them Viking hospitality like Dad said he would. It's the right thing to do, and if there is any malice aforethought on their part, it shames them. Either way we win!"

Gobber seized the opportunity to usher the crowd away at this point, but the manner in which they departed left Hiccup in little doubt that they left because they didn't think he was listening to them.

"Astrid. Go put that somewhere safe 'til tomorrow," he said quietly. "I don't have the head-space to think about it right now."

 **oooo**

Astrid moved away.

Now wasn't the time to bother Hiccup with her personal problems...

Absently, she fumbled open the treaty scroll and skimmed it. Nothing jumped out at her as being particularly troublesome...

 _Provisions for alliance in Marriage._

Wait... What?

Astrid read that paragraph properly. It was couched in hypothetical language and made no assumptions at all about whether or not such a thing was likely. But the fact that it was included in the first place made her wary.

Suddenly, the young princess' presence made a lot more sense to her apprehensive mind. As did the fact she had grown a maiden's Kransen like hers in between being rescued and arriving on Berk.

She shook herself. This Was Silly!

If she went back and spoke to Hiccup about this he'd explode that theory right away. Then he wouldn't have to worry about her any more, and the problem would be solved.

 _How did you introduce this kind of thing in conversation though?_

She turned and walked back to where Hiccup had set up his temporary accommodation.

"...like I've never had any choices in my life at all!"

She stopped dead. That statement had been directed at Valka, and she was loathe to interrupt a mother-son chat, since they had twenty years of catching up to do already.

Hiccup's side of the conversation was mostly blocked by the wall of the stall, unless Hiccup got heated, or stood up to pace around as he was making a point, as he often did. Not so much on this occasion sadly.

"Never mind... on... own! We've had to... far too many... put a stop to it!" Hiccup explained, disjointedly. "That's why... use the protocol to... the princess..."

"I'm just not sure poor Astrid is going to be okay with that idea..." Valka replied. "Noble intention or not..."

"...relationship can't... chief now. Her words."

"Have you explained your thinking to anyone else?"

"...saw how they reacted just now..." Hiccup sighed, finally getting to his feet and allowing her to hear him properly. "I need to earn their respect still. Building a statue of Dad is one thing, making an alliance with a Scots Kingdom is another..."

 _Provisions for alliance in Marriage._

Alliance.

Astrid began to feel very cold.

The idea that Hiccup would betray her so callously, having her find out after the fact, was unthinkable. But if King Fergus had made an assumption, and Hiccup didn't have the mental space to argue, something he seldom did with his father, who Fergus was very much like...

 _Don't pretend you haven't done that yourself. And over the stupidest things too... Like when Dagur and Mala announced their engagement._

How had she put it?

 _They've known each other for a few months and they can't bear to be apart. We've known each other our whole lives and I've never felt further away from you._

An observation based on a couple in the early stages of their relationship, when it was all so new and exciting for them. A phase that had been abruptly terminated for her and Hiccup a couple of months previously when Krogan's Dragon Flyers had attacked their outpost while they were out enjoying some time alone.

In hindsight, everyone agreed it was more Johann's fault than theirs, but at the time Hiccup had blamed himself, as he tended to do.

He had taken pains to correct this seeming mistake, as was also his habit.

Net result: passive aggression from her, culminating in a _stupid_ argument.

She'd not realised how dependent his self-confidence was on her belief in him. Which she _should have_ , given that he'd been on the verge of running away from Berk when she accidentally discovered his friendship with Toothless in the first place.

Given all of _that_ , she might as well have told him that whatever he did was wrong. Gods knew he'd had far too much of that in his life.

It had _**hurt**_ , she could tell...

...and he'd _still_ given her the most romantic apology she'd ever heard.

She'd sworn not to do that to him again.

Which meant that her emotions were piling up on her, until she didn't know what to do.

"This isn't just about Berk's future." Hiccup told his mother as they walked past where Astrid had hidden herself, without even being aware she was doing so. "This is about _our_ future too. Astrid will understand."

Astrid, hidden in the corner, suddenly unable to see the bright future he'd made speeches about in the last few months.

It seemed cold, dark, tunnel-like.

Lonely...

 **oooo**

Viking hospitality was every bit as impressive as Stoick's boasting, despite Hiccup's apologies about the meagreness of the feast.

King Fergus saw nothing meagre about it.

There was hot food, and plenty of it. More pertinently, there was sufficient Ale to muddy the lines his men seemed to have drawn between them and the Berkians, and vice versa.

Oh, there were still the inevitable few who glared sidelong at their fellows swapping tales of the old campaign with Stoick, but the convivial time these ones were having was rippling out across the hall slowly.

"They'll come round eventually."

Fergus came to himself with a start. He hadn't even realised that Hiccup's mother, seated on his right side at the high table, had been observing him.

"I used to think that people weren't capable of change," Valka went on, moving her hand in a strange motion as if to punctuate her words, that briefly distracted him. "Then I saw the miracles my son had worked." She abruptly stopped gesticulating, and firmly placed her hands on her lap and began to look embarrassed.

Fergus had heard she had lived among Dragons, without human contact, for longer than he had known Stoick, so he wasn't surprised she had some mildly odd mannerisms.

"I've known some hard-heads in my time," he replied. "Some of them I'd happily throw off a mountain if they weren't so useful."

Valka noted the direction of his gaze, toward Tomas Macintosh further down the table. He was seated next to Gobber, who was wearing his 'I-want-to-be-polite-but-I-am-struggling' face at whatever he was saying. Bucket, on his other side, was achieving this by virtue of being blissfully oblivious to everything his neighbour was talking about.

"Hmmm," she said, non-committally. Fergus frowned.

"Please tell me he wasn't terribly rude to you earlier..." he muttered. He knew for a fact that Macintosh had been suspicious and doubtful about Valka literally being Hiccup's mother, and had meant to engage her in conversation in the hope of catching her out. Valka looked him square in the eye.

"That depends, your Majesty," she said quietly. "I am a poor liar, much like my son, so likely the both of you would know everything you would wish to know from me in short order, if he framed his questions right. Does he defend his chief in such fashion effectively?"

The clumsy attempt at tact wasn't lost on Fergus.

"He does, though he could be a little less cynical about it..." he sighed, "If I might be equally frank with you, Lady Valka; if your resemblance to Chief Hiccup, and his to Stoick, was not obvious to anyone possessed of a working pair of eyes and an absence of obstructive cynicism, I would not _care_ of the truth of his parentage!"

Valka digested that for a moment. "You're as uncomfortable as I am," she said, dropping the attempt at elegant speaking.

Fergus chuckled. "I've sat through too many protocol infested occasions like this to be anywhere nearly as comfortable as you seem to be."

"Then I am better at pretending these things than I thought," Valka replied, "and you are certainly better than me!"

Fergus couldn't help grinning, though sheepishly, as he made a mental note to have a word with Macintosh later.

"I know hard-headedness well," Valka went on, her face softening. "I married Stoick after all!"

"He was a good man to have at your back..."

"Under the dysfunction, stubbornness and survivor guilt, you mean?" Valka scoffed, to Fergus' great surprise. "I'm sorry," she added, on seeing his expression, "but I knew him too well, and I've heard too much about how he was during my absence, to think of him as a perfect man. Besides, I'm... trying not to think about the time we lost because I was as stubborn as he was..." she trailed off, looking embarrassed again.

Fergus thought back to a couple of years previously, when he had almost killed his wife without realising it, and come close to losing her in either case. Would he have thought like Valka did now?

What would he have wanted to hear?

"There were good times as well, though I know only a couple of them..." he probed "...if you've not heard your fill from Spitelout and the others," he added. Valka looked across at him, clearly not fooled for a second, but grateful none-the-less.

"How did your people take to him then?" she asked, playing along.

"Well, the first one to speak to him was four-year-old Merida..." Fergus began. "...scared her mother and I half to death..."

 **oooo**

Protocol had seated Merida on Hiccup's left side at the high table, her father on his right, next to his mother. Given that the king was speaking to Valka right at that moment, it gave Merida a prime opportunity to speak to the young chief.

He was pleasant enough company, but Merida got the impression that he had a million and one things on his mind, and attempted to say so, gently.

"You could say that," Hiccup agreed. "I don't think I'd have gotten as far as I have already without... oh..."

Merida followed his gesture to an empty chair quite a way further down the table. A moment's search found Astrid walking towards the door of the hall. The set of her shoulders suggested she wasn't happy in the least.

Something clicked in Merida's head. "I'm in her seat, aren't I?" she asked.

"It's not your fault." Hiccup replied. "I've not been a very attentive betrothed these last few months. I need to make it up to her somehow." He smiled ruefully at her. "Any suggestions?" He asked in partial jest.

 _Betrothed!_

Merida was faintly relieved to have a line under her vague musings about what a relationship with a Viking chief actually involved.

She hadn't expected him to ask for relationship advice however, but she thought for a moment. "Well... some of my suitors try singing to me...?" she said at last.

"Key word being try?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Heh... since I sing like a Gronkle with toothache, I can relate! Besides, the only song I could sing in this situation... I still think of..." his gaze wandered to his mother.

Merida had tried to avoid bringing Stoick up in conversation up to now. "I'm sorry."

Hiccup waved this off.

"No, no. I do miss him, but he wasn't the easiest of men to get along with, and we just didn't understand each other until... well..." he trailed off, absently reaching down to his left leg.

"The Red Death?" Merida asked quietly. She still wasn't sure what that was all about, but it was apparently a very large dragon Hiccup had defeated, losing his leg in the process.

"Well, that helped." Hiccup chuckled, "but even then we didn't always see eye to eye. He was right about Drago though..." he went quiet again.

Merida wasn't sure what to say, particularly since she only barely remembered Stoick. She thought of the clan gathering two years before, arguing with her mother, almost starting a war because of that.

Then...

"I know how that feels..." she said, quietly. "I almost lost my mother a couple of years back. I blamed myself too." She wasn't sure how tell the tale of how she had ended up being stuck looking like a bear in the first place. "We didn't really get on for a long time..." she started.

"Let me guess; ever since she was young, she knew what she was, and what she had to become, and you weren't it?" Hiccup interrupted.

"Oh, she had no idea what she was, and just took for granted what she had to become." Merida replied, recalling a long conversation with her mother in the weeks afterwards. "No wonder she wasn't happy when I complained about having no freedom..."

"I hear that! _I'm_ still not sure what the hell I am!"

"Besides a chief?" Merida grinned. Hiccup snorted.

"Oh yeah. He still guilts me to do what he wanted, even in death!"

There was a spike of bitterness in that last sentence. So much so that Merida was surprised when Hiccup chuckled to himself and smiled.

"You know, however miserable he made my childhood without realising it... there were moments, when we flew together, I got back something I didn't know I'd lost..."

Hiccup turned to Merida, smiling crookedly.

" _That's_ the part I'll choose to remember."

Merida remembered reconnecting with her mother while she was stuck in bear's shape, and felt her own face lift. Accepting a refilled goblet from a Viking woman doing the rounds with an ale keg, she lifted it likewise.

"To Stoick the Vast?"

Hiccup's expression remained somewhat distant, but his smile widened, and he brought up his own Goblet.

"To Stoick the Vast."

 **oooo**

The guards at the prison were taken completely unaware, being vaguely resentful at drawing the short straw and missing the feast as they were.

Their assailant began to draw his sword as they lay senseless on the floor.

"Wait!" Matthias called from his cell.

"What?" the assailant growled.

"Better they are left alive to give a poor excuse for their failure."

The assailant paused for a moment, then kicked one downed guard that had started to stir, before grabbing his keys.

"You sound like Viggo," he hissed in a warning tone, turning his hood to glare at Matthias.

Matthias had the sense not to rise to that, but he wasn't surprised when he was the last to be let out.

"You understand what you have to do," he said, pointedly directing this statement at two of the men with him instead of their rescuer. "Move fast and decisively, and no-one will think to question you."

They nodded and moved away.

Professionals, both of them. Unlike the men he had inherited from the late Viggo Grimborn's tribe. What was left of it...

Still, they had their uses.

"Right, what now?"

Idle conversation was not one of them.

Fortunately, the hooded man had a lower tolerance for such things, and clouted the speaker round the head. Some of the others sniggered, almost covering someone else muttering about how hard the hooded man was to kill.

"Now," Matthias replied, being in a magnanimous mood, "we wait."

The hooded man turned the top half of a scarred face toward him. "This had better work!" he grumbled. "We've lost one ship already!"

"We could nick one from the docks," someone suggested.

"We only need one." Matthias insisted. "Besides, they won't notice _ours_ is missing in the confusion."

"And we'll soon have enough money for a few more," one of the former Dragon hunters added, before turning to glare pointedly at Matthias. "Right?"

"Well if _that's_ what you want to spend it on, go ahead. I have... different plans for my share."

There was a brief flurry of nervous laughter. Matthias realised he quite liked these men actually. None of them had the imagination to realise any one of them could do him serious harm with a casual punch, and he mentally thanked Viggo once again for instilling them once again with this mindset. All he had to do was remind them of him.

 _Well, with one exception_ , he reminded himself, as the hooded man scowled at him.

"Within the hour, we will have earned our pay and be well away," Matthias soothed.

* * *

(Things are starting to move along now! I'm curious about something by the way; can anyone guess who the hooded man is?

Thanks to my wife for grammar and spelling checking, and just generally being awesome!)


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